Ecstasis and Philosophy as the Practice of Dying

Piero Di Cosimo, Incarnation of Jesus (c.1485−1505; detail)

RICHARD OF ST. VICTOR discusses a mystical state of consciousness he calls alienatio mentis (alienation of the mind). [1] This is a type of ecstasy in which one loses contact with bodily senses.  Typically, however, both consciousness itself and awareness of oneself remain intact. That is, it is neither a state of complete unconsciousness, nor identityless consciousness.

What is, this, exactly?  A preliminary survey of the literature shows there are many opinions on the matter, but no clear agreement or decisive conclusions.

It seems possible to me that this is not a psychological state resolved for the few, privileged individual who can devote their lives entirely to contemplation.  Rather, perhaps it is a mental ability that we all have the capacity for (for example, it seems similar to certain dissociative states experienced under the influence of medical anesthesia), and we can activate this natural ability without too much difficulty.

It also seems possible there is a connection between this condition and Plato’s assertion that true philosophy is the ‘practice of dying’ — in the sense, that philosophers seek (according to him) a temporary separation of the soul/mind from the body and sensation.

His most sustained discussion of this occurs in the dialogue Phaedo.  There, Socrates is in jail, in the hours leading up to his drinking the hemlock; he wishes to explain to his pupils why he is not afraid of death.  Other parts of the dialogue present Socrates’ arguments for the immortality of the soul.  But in the section below, he explains that the body and senses are great hindrances to cognition of Eternal truths.  Philosophy, he implies, involves  learning to experience one’s soul detached from physical senses.

1. Richard discusses this in Benjamin Major 5.5 and in On the Extermination of Bad and the Promotion of Good 3.18, among other places.  In the Four Degrees of Fervent Love 35−38 he distinguishes between levels of contemplation associated with the ‘second heaven’ and ‘third heaven.’  In the latter the soul experiences a more profound ecstasy: “in this state, the human mind, forgetful of all external things, forgets even itself and passes entirely into its God.” (Kraebel, p. 291)

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Phaedo 65−67 (tr. Jowett, 1892)

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Socrates: In matters of this sort philosophers, above all other men, may be observed in every sort of way to dissever the soul from the communion of the body.

Simmias: Very true.

Whereas, Simmias, the rest of the world are of opinion that to him who has no sense of pleasure and no part in bodily pleasure, life is not worth having; and that he who is indifferent about them is as good as dead.

That is also true.

What again shall we say of the actual acquirement of knowledge? — is the body, if invited to share in the enquiry, a hinderer or a helper? I mean to say, have sight and hearing any truth in them? Are they not, as the poets are always telling us, inaccurate witnesses? and yet, if even they are inaccurate and indistinct, what is to be said of the other senses? — for you will allow that they are the best of them?

Certainly, he replied.

Then when does the soul attain truth? — for in attempting to consider anything in company with the body she is obviously deceived.

True.

Then must not true existence be revealed to her in thought, if at all?

Yes.

And thought is best when the mind is gathered into herself and none of these things trouble her — neither sounds nor sights nor pain nor any pleasure, — when she takes leave of the body, and has as little as possible to do with it, when she has no bodily sense or desire, but is aspiring after true being?

Certainly.

And in this the philosopher dishonours the body; his soul runs away from his body and desires to be alone and by herself?

That is true.

Well, but there is another thing, Simmias: Is there or is there not an absolute justice?

Assuredly there is.

And an absolute beauty and absolute good?

Of course.

But did you ever behold any of them with your eyes?

Certainly not.

Or did you ever reach them with any other bodily sense? — and I speak not of these alone, but of absolute greatness, and health, and strength, and of the essence or true nature of everything. Has the reality of them ever been perceived by you through the bodily organs? or rather, is not the nearest approach to the knowledge of their several natures made by him who so orders his intellectual vision as to have the most exact conception of the essence of each thing which he considers?

Certainly.

And he attains to the purest knowledge of them who goes to each with the mind alone, not introducing or intruding in the act of thought sight or any other sense together with

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reason, but with the very light of the mind in her own clearness searches into the very truth of each; he who has got rid, as far as he can, of eyes and ears and, so to speak, of the whole body, these being in his opinion distracting elements which when they infect the soul hinder her from acquiring truth and knowledge — who, if not he, is likely to attain to the knowledge of true being?

What you say has a wonderful truth in it, Socrates, replied Simmias.

And when real philosophers consider all these things, will they not be led to make a reflection which they will express in words something like the following? ‘Have we not found,’ they will say, ‘a path of thought which seems to bring us and our argument to the conclusion, that while we are in the body, and while the soul is infected with the evils of the body, our desire will not be satisfied? and our desire is of the truth. For the body is a source of endless trouble to us by reason of the mere requirement of food; and is liable also to diseases which overtake and impede us in the search after true being: it fills us full of loves, and lusts, and fears, and fancies of all kinds, and endless foolery, and in fact, as men say, takes away from us the power of thinking at all. Whence come wars, and fightings, and factions? whence but from the body and the lusts of the body? Wars are occasioned by the love of money, and money has to be acquired for the sake and in the service of the body; and by reason of all these impediments we have no time to give to philosophy; and, last and worst of all, even if we are at leisure and betake ourselves to some speculation, the body is always breaking in upon us, causing turmoil and confusion in our enquiries, and so amazing us that we are prevented from seeing the truth. It has been proved to us by experience that if we would have pure knowledge of anything we must be quit of the body — the soul in herself must behold things in themselves: and then we shall attain the wisdom which we desire, and of which we say that we are lovers; not while we live, but after death; for if while in company with the body, the soul cannot have pure knowledge, one of two things follows — either knowledge is not to be attained at all, or, if at all, after death. For then, and not till then, the soul will be parted

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from the body and exist in herself alone. In this present life, I reckon that we make the nearest approach to knowledge when we have the least possible intercourse or communion with the body, and are not surfeited with the bodily nature, but keep ourselves pure until the hour when God himself is pleased to release us. And thus having got rid of the foolishness of the body we shall be pure and hold converse with the pure, and know of ourselves the clear light everywhere, which is no other than the light of truth.’ For the impure are not permitted to approach the pure. These are the sort of words, Simmias, which the true lovers of knowledge cannot help saying to one another, and thinking. You would agree; would you not?

Undoubtedly, Socrates.

But, O my friend, if this be true, there is great reason to hope that, going whither I go, when I have come to the end of my journey, I shall attain that which has been the pursuit of my life. And therefore I go on my way rejoicing, and not I only, but every other man who believes that his mind has been made ready and that he is in a manner purified.

Certainly, replied Simmias.

And what is purification but the separation of the soul from the body, as I was saying before; the habit of the soul gathering and collecting herself into herself from all sides out of the body; the dwelling in her own place alone, as in another life, so also in this, as far as she can;—the release of the soul from the chains of the body?

Very true, he said.

And this separation and release of the soul from the body is termed death?

To be sure, he said.

And the true philosophers, and they only, are ever seeking to release the soul. Is not the separation and release of the soul from the body their especial study?

Source: Jowett, Benjamin. The Dialogues of Plato in Five Volumes, 3rd ed. Oxford University, 1892. Vol. 2

Did Plato and Socrates regularly practice contemplation?  At least in Socrates’ case, we there are two suggestive examples from his life.  In one, before the Battle of Potidea, he was observed to stand motionless in a ‘meditative trance’ for an entire day.  In another, on his way to the dinner party recounted in Plato’s dialogue Symposium, Socrates dropped behind the others and fell into “a fit of abstraction.”

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Bibliography

Kraebel, Andrew. Richard of St. Victor: On the Four Degrees of Violent Love (De quatuor gradibus violentae caritatis).    In: Hugh Feiss (ed.), Victorine Texts in Translation Vol. 2: On Love, Brepols, 2011; pp. 287−300.

Németh, Csaba. Paulus Raptus to Raptus Pauli: Paul’s Rapture (2 Cor 12: 2–4) in the Pre-Scholastic and Scholastic Theologies. In: A Companion to St. Paul in the Middle Ages, Brill, 2013; 349−392.

Zinn, Grover A. (tr.). Richard of St. Victor: The Twelve Patriarchs, The Mystical Ark and Book Three of The Trinity. Paulist Press, 1979.

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Richard of St. Victor: De exterminatione mali et promotione boni

Crossing the Jordan, William Hole (detail)

AWORK of Richard of St. Victor, De exterminatione mali et promotione boni (On the Extermination of Bad the Promotion of Good)*, has received little attention.  It’s subject is the process of self-transformation, beginning with such purgative virtues as contempt of the world, self-contempt and contrition, and proceeding to positive moral virtues, culminating in contemplation.  Below is a translation of the final chapter — a discussion of contemplation and ecstasy — and the subtitles of all chapters.  In the Bibliography is a link to the Latin text.

* Draft English translation is here.  Latin version is here.

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CHAPTER XVIII. On Quiet Contemplation.

We can find the twelfth stone, and the last of all, as I think, at the Lord’s tomb.* It has been said, as has been said above, that the stone is the tranquility of contemplation. Of this kind, that Joseph of Arimathea cut a stone for his tomb, but Jesus rested dead in it, because the rest which prudence seeks for itself through meditation, and describes through definition, wisdom through contemplation, he found it, and by experiment he apprehended it. True prudence always seeks, and must always seek that peace which Christ taught, that it may not be troubled or afraid. He always seeks where he can find such peace, he always strives to defend his true security, but he always finds something to grieve over the past, something to attack in the present, something to be wary of and afraid of the future. Therefore, the mind can skillfully seek this peace through prudence, and investigate it with precision through meditation, but it will never be able to find it except through wisdom and the grace of contemplation.

*Treatise 3 discusses twelve virtues that are essential to the soul’s good.  Throughout Richard refers allegorically to the 12 stones of the monument of Gilgal that Joshua built to memorialize the miracle of the Israelites’ crossing the Jordan. (Josh 4).  The 12th virtue/stone, contemplation, he also associates with the sepulchre in which Jesus’ body rested for 3 days.  Richard supplies a comparable moral-allegorical exegesis of the 12 sons of Jacob (and therefore the 12 tribes of Israel, each one of which is associated with a stone in Joshua 4) in his masterpiece, Benjamin Major.

But when the mind began to go beyond itself through pure intelligence, and into that clear, incorporeal light, to enter completely, and to draw from what he sees inwardly a certain taste of inmost sweetness, and from it to build his intelligence, and to turn it into wisdom; meanwhile, in this ecstasy [mentis excessu], that peace which neither disturbs nor frightens, is found and obtained, so that it becomes silence in heaven for half an hour [Rev. 8:1], so that the mind of the beholder is disturbed by no tumult of conflicting thoughts: you will find nothing at all, either to ask for through desire, or to argue with through disgust, or to accuse through hatred. He who is buried in this stone, who is completely collected and concluded within the tranquility of contemplation, is composed for the highest peace. For this stone, like that of Jacob*, is not placed on the head alone, nor, like the latter, is it placed under the feet, but on the whole it is grasped and applied to the body. This stone, therefore, surrounds the whole body, includes the whole, and grasps it from every side, because that peace which surpasses all sense, thoroughly absorbs all human sense, and turns into a certain divine attitude the purer part of the soul by a successful transfiguration. Here lies the body without sense or motion in this Sunday monument [Dominico monumento]; Sensuality does nothing, the imagination does nothing, and all the lower power of the soul is put on its proper duty in the meantime.

For this stone monument (like the stone recumbent of the patriarch Jacob) does not receive a living body, however asleep, nor does it receive a body unless it is mortified. It is one thing to sleep, it is another thing to endure. Another thing is to collect his whole spirit into himself, and it is another thing to rise above oneself and to abandon oneself. It is one thing to have controlled the appetite, and to have cut off the external cares of the heart, and it is another thing to forget oneself. It is necessary, therefore, before it is permitted to enter into that secret of the most intimate repose and the arcanum of the utmost tranquillity; it is necessary, I say, that it should be very serious and truly wonderful, not the dissolution of soul and body, but something else much more wonderful and much more glorious than this, namely, that of which this is the type, namely, the division of soul and spirit. But this is what the Apostle testifies, that he is the living and efficacious word of God, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit. [Heb 4:12]

What, I pray thee, is seen anywhere in this division of creatures, where that which is essentially one and an individual is divided into itself, and that which is simple in itself and consists without parts is divided and separated from itself? For in one man there is not one essence of his spirit and another essence of his soul, but one and the same simple substance of nature. For in this twin term a twin substance is not meant; but when the twin forces of the same essence are used for distinction, one superior is designated by spirit, the other inferior by soul. In this division, therefore, the soul and that which is animal remains in the bottom; but the spirit and that which is spiritual flies to the top.

That which is corpulent and stiff as a dead body fails, and falls back on itself and under himself; that which is subtle and exuded as a breathed-out spirit ascends and transcends within and beyond itself. O deep rest, O sublime rest, where everything that is usually moved by human beings loses all movement, where everyone who is then moved becomes divine and passes into God! This Spirit, breathed out, and entrusted to the hands of the Father, does not, like that dreamer Jacob, need a ladder, in order to fly to the third, not to say to the first, heaven. What need, I pray thee, of a ladder, which the Father holds between his hands, to rapture to the secrets of the third heaven, so that he may glory and say: Thy right hand received me. Did you hold my right hand and lead me in your will, and received me with glory? (Psa 18:35; cf. Psa 16:11, 17:7)

Therefore the Spirit has no work; here he is removed from the middle of the duty of the ladder, and does not need to be supported in that ascent of his subtlety by the shadow [adumbratione] of any bodily likeness, where he sees face to face, not through a mirror, and in an enigma. I would be lying if they did not say the same about themselves who are like him: But we all, they say, beholding the glory of the Lord with our face revealed, are transformed into the same image from brightness to brightness, as by the Spirit of the Lord (2 Cor. 3). You certainly see what he is doing, and you understand, as I think, what is the value of that division of soul and spirit, of which we have already spoken above.

The spirit is divided from the lowest in order to rise to the highest. The spirit is separated from the soul in order to unite with the Lord. For he who clings to the Lord is one spirit. A happy division, and an expectable separation, where what is recognized as passible, that which is corruptible, dies in the meantime by its passions, so much so that nothing of passibility, nothing of corruption is felt in the meantime; where also that which is spiritual, that which is subtle, is sublimated even to the contemplation of the divine glory, and is transformed into the same image. Therefore the lower part is composed for the utmost peace and tranquillity, while the upper part is sublimated for glory and delight. Thus we recognized the face of Moses (certainly the upper part of the body) glorified by the company of the Lord, so that the children of Israel could not focus on his face because of his brightness. Who, I pray thee, is worthy to say, who is sufficient to explain what excssive perfection the spirit acquires in its glorification, even though it does not extend the prolongation of its pilgrimage to the third day, even if it does not produce a delay of silence for half an hour, and may go and return in likeness a flash of lightning?

Thus Moses, from the company of the divine conversation, with a glorified countenance also brings back the horns, showing what valor and what courage he has contracted from his company, who gives courage and strength to his people, blessed God. Then at last it returns, and that spirit which had gone far beyond itself, and which it had placed as passible and corruptible, resumes, as it were, impassive and incorruptible, in comparison with its former state, and rises again into newness of life. What do you think of being cheerful at an injury, not blushing at an insult, and rejoicing in trouble? Is not this to walk in the newness of life, and in some way to show oneself impassible and not subject to ones passions? Behold how long those who rest on this stone advance.

Note: The soul acquires durable virtues, useful in the material world, from contemplation.

There are many things that could have been said about this matter, if they had to be said in this place and did not exceed the measure of moderate digression. For I think that this last kind of stone is the most worthy and precious of all. However, we must not reject anything, but at least ask each one about each one, and gather them together.

It must be noted that this is the first work that is commanded to be done in the Promised Land, so that an eternal memorial of the divine works may be established first of all. For without this heaping of stones, that Sunday promise of an eternal inheritance will never be firmly acquired, never securely possessed. For he who forgets the benefits received from God [beneficiorum divinitus] does not deserve to be promoted to obtain greater ones.

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FIRST TREATISE

CHAPTER I. (no subheading)

CHAPTER II. Of the double confession, and the double promotion [advancement].

CHAPTER III. How the confession of a crime is effective for the extermination of evil.

CHAPTER IV. How the confession of praise is useful for the promotion of good.

CHAPTER V. That the first promotion of virtue is in the contempt of the world.

CHAPTER VI The second promotion of virtue is in self-contempt.

CHAPTER VII. How by the contempt of the world is the extermination of evil.

CHAPTER VIII. That a contrite mind is now a helper, now a support of good.

CHAPTER IX Of useful and useless contrition.

CHAPTER X. Of the twin compunction of the heart.

CHAPTER XI. Of vain and true contempt of the world

CHAPTER XII. How difficult it is to reach complete self-contempt.

CHAPTER XIII. By these methods the mind is trained to complete self-contempt.

CHAPTER 14 That superfluous love of self is more difficult to overcome among the successes of the virtues.

CHAPTER XV. How gradually the mind is to be advanced to self-contempt.

CHAPTER XVI How the mind, exhausted by vain love, expands in the love of God.

CHAPTER XVII. Of the failure of vain love, and the beginning of true love.

CHAPTER XVIII. How through the want of vain love the disorders of the mind fail.

CHAPTER XIX With what caution we ought to remove disorders of the heart.

SECOND TREATISE
From this point on the subject is the study of contemplation, and how or how much it is worth for the reformation of true love.

CHAPTER I (no subheading)

CHAPTER II. How the investigation and revision of salubrious things is valid for correcting the mind.

CHAPTER III. It is easier to correct the mind than to penetrate into its inmost parts.

CHAPTER IV. It may be worth while to linger longer in the contemplation of our weakness with profound wonder.

CHAPTER V. How, after full self-correction, the soul is introduced to the contemplation of the eternal.

CHAPTER VI That in the future life, after the contemplation of the eternal, the mind is relaxed to all the satisfaction of its desire.

CHAPTER VII. How some, even in this life, are lifted up to the contemplation of the eternal.

CHAPTER VIII. It is always necessary to anticipate by the study of contemplation where we should aim by desire.

CHAPTER IX Of the twin imperfections which must always be kept in mind.

CHAPTER X. An example or form of a proposed consideration.

CHAPTER XI. Of those things which pertain to meditation or contemplation, and how much they are capable of promoting the virtue of such captives.

CHAPTER XII. On the double premeditation, that is, of rewards and merits.

CHAPTER XIII. How we must insist more strongly on the prospect of prizes.

CHAPTER XIV. The merits of this speculation consist in two things.

CHAPTER XV. What is meditation, and what is contemplation.

THE THIRD TREATISE
Hitherto the promotion of good, formerly of the confirmation of the same.

CHAPTER I. (no subheading)

CHAPTER II. On the confirmation of the mind in good and the hardening of the mind in evil.

CHAPTER III. Of the evil of presumption or despair.

CHAPTER IV. How, from the remembrance of our evils, we ought to check our presumption.

CHAPTER V. How we ought to repel despair from the remembrance of our goods.

CHAPTER VI Of the twelve principal virtues in which the mind is to be strengthened.

CHAPTER VII. On the solidity of fear.

CHAPTER VIII. On the severity of compunction.

CHAPTER IX On long-suffering hope.

CHAPTER X. On the integrity of charity.

CHAPTER XI. On mature pleasure.

CHAPTER XII. On rugged severity.

CHAPTER XIII. On austere abstinence.

CHAPTER XIV. On the strength of patience.

CHAPTER XV. The concern of the circumspection.

CHAPTER XVI On assiduous speculation.

CHAPTER XVII. Of the certainty of discretion.

CHAPTER XVIII. On quiet contemplation.

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Bibliography

Richard of St. Victor, De exterminatione mali et promotione boni (On the Extermination of Bad the Promotion of Good), J. P. Migne, Patrologia Latina vol. 196 1073C−1116C.  Paris, 1855.  [Latin text]

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St. Bernard on the Mystical Sense of Windows and Lattices in the Canticle

MORE from St. Bernard’s sermons on the Song of Songs.  He associates the lattices and windows  of verse 2.9 with, respectively, two forms of ‘confession’:  a confession of our sins, and a confession of praise and thanksgiving.  Through these openings — the former the lesser and the latter the greater — God, as Bernard puts it, may “regard thee with a gracious glance.”

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SERMON LVI

On the Mystical Sense of the Wall, the Windows, and the Lattices.

“Behold He standeth behind our wall, looking through the windows, looking through the lattices.” [Cant 2:9]

THERE is another matter which thou shouldst attend to with all possible vigilance. Thou must see to it that the Beloved shall always find wide open the windows and the lattices of thy confessions, if I may so speak, so that through these openings He may regard thee within with a gracious glance. For His regard is thy progress. Lattices (cancelli) are narrow windows, which persons who make a business of writing cause to be opened in the wall, in order to obtain light for their work. Hence, as I believe, the name “chancellors” is given to those who have the office of drawing up charters and other formal instruments. Now there are two species of confession, the one consisting in a sorrowful declaration of our sins, the other in a gladsome acknowledgment of the divine benefits. Whenever, therefore, I make that confession which is always accompanied with anguish (angustia) of heart — I mean the confession of sin — it appears to me that I have opened the lattice, that is to say, the narrow window (angustiorem fenestram). Nor can there be any doubt that He who stands behind the wall as a loving Observer, will gladly avail Himself of this aperture and look in upon me, because “a contrite and humbled heart God will not despise.” [Ps. 51:17] He Himself has told me to open my lattice for Him, saying by His Prophet, “Do thou first confess thy iniquities, that thou mayst be justified.” [Isa 43:26]

But if occasionally my heart dilates under the influence of charity and, thinking of the divine condescension and compassion, I feel moved to let my soul expand in the confession of praise and thanksgiving, at such times I may be truly said to open, not now the lattice, but the widest of my windows, for the sake of the Bridegroom Who stands behind the wall. And I think He will look in through this ampler opening the more willingly in proportion as the “sacrifice of praise glorifieth” [Ps. 50:23] Him more.

Source: St. Bernard, Sermons on the Song of Songs, Sermon 52.  Translation: A priest of Mount Melleray. St Bernard’s Sermons on the Canticle of Canticles, 3 vols, Dublin, 1920; vol. 2, pp. 141−142.

Latin: Sermones in Cantica canticorum, Migne Patrologia Latina 183 785A−1198A, Paris, 1854.

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Bibliography

A priest of Mount Melleray. St Bernard’s Sermons on the Canticle of Canticles, 3 vols, Dublin, 1920. (Volume 1, Volume 2).

Eales, Samuel J. Saint Bernard: Cantica Canticorum, Eighty-six Sermons. London, 1895.

Leclercq, J.; Talbot, C. H., Rochais, H. M. (eds.). Sermones super Cantica canticorum, in Bernardi opera, volumes 1−2. Ed. Cistercienses, Rome, 1957−58. Latin critical edition.

Walsh, Killian; Edmonds, Irene (trs.). Bernard of Clairvaux: Sermons on the Song of Songs. 4 vols. CF (Cistercian Fathers Series) vols. 4, 7, 31, and 40. Spencer, MA: Cistercian Publications, 1971−80.

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St. Bernard on Mystical Ecstasy

St. Bruno, Correrie Grand Chartreuse

ST. BERNARD wrote eighty-six sermons commenting on the Song of Songs.  A major theme of the commentary is that the Song is an allegory for union or marriage of the individual soul to God brought about, in part, through contemplation.  This sermon, which, discusses the ‘sleep of the soul’ or ecstasy, potentially influenced later Christian mystics like St. Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross.  

An interesting feature is St. Bernard’s distinction between two kinds of ecstasy.  The greater kind is the experience of losing awareness of sensations entirely during contemplation.  The lesser kind (“to live on earth unfettered by earthly desires”), although the precise meaning is unclear, suggests a kind of waking ecstasy, in which one may conduct the usual activities of life, but detached from earthly concerns.

St. Bernard’s sermons on the Song are surprisingly little studied today.

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SERMON LII

On the Mystical Sleep of the Spouse, and the two kinds of ecstasy.

“I adjure you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes and the harts of the fields, that you stir not up nor make the beloved to wake till she please.” (Cant. 2:7)

This adjuration, my brethren, is addressed to the young maidens. For they are the “daughters of Jerusalem,” so called because although delicate and tender, and still weak and girlish in their actions and affections, nevertheless they cling close to the Spouse, in the hope of advancing towards and ultimately reaching the heavenly Jerusalem. These therefore the Bridegroom charges not to intrude upon His beloved whilst she is taking her repose, and on no account to presume to awaken her until it is her pleasure. For the reason why He places His Hand under her head, like a most affectionate husband (according to what has been said already), is in order that He may make her rest and slumber on His Bosom. And now the Holy Scripture further tells us that He most lovingly and condescendingly watches over her while she sleeps, lest the young maidens, with their frequent little troubles, should disturb her quiet and compel her to interrupt her repose. Such appears to be the literal connexion of our present text with the preceding. Yet as regards that solemn adjuration “by the roes and the harts of the fields,” if we take the words literally they seem to bear no relevant sense, so entirely are they appropriated to the spiritual signification. But however this may be, at all events, “it is good for us to be here” (Matt 17:4),  and to spend a little time contemplating the goodness, the sweetness, the gracious condescension of the heavenly Bridegroom. What tenderness, O man, hast thou ever found in any human affection to be compared with that which is revealed to us here from the Heart of the Most High? And the revelation is made by the Holy Ghost Who “searcheth the deep things of God” (1Cor 2:10), Who cannot be ignorant of anything contained in the Heart of Him Whose own Spirit He is, and, as being the Spirit of truth, cannot speak anything other than what He finds therein recorded.

Nor is there wanting of our own race one who has been so happy as to merit the joy of being made the object of this divine tenderness, and of experiencing in herself this delightful secrets of heavenly love. To question this would be to doubt the truth of the inspired passage which I am now discussing. For the celestial Bridegroom is clearly represented here as most anxiously concerned for the repose of a human Spouse very dear to Him, whom with affectionate solicitude He holds in His arms whilst she slumbers, fearful lest a sleep so pleasant should be disturbed by any annoyance or agitation. My brethren, I cannot contain myself for joy, when I think of how that infinite Majesty disdains not to stoop so low as to engage thus in sweet and familiar intercourse with our poor nature, when I think of how the Most High God vouchsafes to contract a marriage alliance with the soul even during the time of her exile, and to manifest towards her all the tender affection which the most loving of bridegrooms could show to his bride. I have no doubt that what we read of on earth is perfectly accomplished in the case of every soul in heaven. I believe that we shall fully experience there what we here find described in the holy Book; except that no language can give a true idea of the capacity for love which the soul shall have in the next life, nor even of that with which she is at present endowed. What, think you, is the happiness awaiting her in heaven, when even on earth she is treated so affectionately that she feels herself embraced with the arms of God, fostered on the Bosom of God, guarded by the watchfulness and jealousy of God, lest anything should disturb her slumber and cause her to awake before it is her pleasure?

But now, my brethren, let me explain, if I can, what is this sleep which the Bridegroom wants His Spouse to enjoy, and will not allow her to be awakened out of it except at her own desire. An explanation is necessary, because otherwise, when some one happens to read in the Apostle, “It is now the hour for us to rise from sleep” (Rom 13:11); or, in the psalms, that verse where David says to God, “Enlighten my eyes that I may never sleep in death” (Ps. 13:3), he may easily be puzzled by the ambiguity of the term sleep, and be quite unable to discover any worthy interpretation for the slumber of the Spouse, of which there is question here. Nor has this sleep anything in common with that whereof Christ spoke in the Gospel, when He said, “Lazarus our friend sleepeth; but I go that I may awake him out of sleep” (John 11:11). For the sleep He meant was the sleep of bodily death, although the disciples understood His words as referring to ordinary slumber. The sleep of the Spouse has nothing to do with the body. It is as distinct from that gentle sleep which for a time sweetly seals up the material senses, as it is from the more terrible which finally extinguishes the life of the flesh. Still less is it identified with the sleep of spiritual death which paralyses the soul whilst she obstinately perseveres in a state of sin. For instead of bringing darkness and torpor, the sleep of the Spouse is wakeful and life-giving; it illuminates the mind, expels the death of sin, and bestows immortality. Nevertheless, it is a true sleep, which transports rather than stupefies the faculties. It is also a true death. This I affirm without the least hesitation, since the Apostle says, in commendation of some who were still living in the flesh, “You are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God” (Col 3:3).

Therefore I also can be guilty of no absurdity when I describe the ecstasy of the Spouse as a kind of death, not the death which terminates life, but that which delivers her true life from danger, so that she may say with the Psalmist, “Our soul hath been delivered as a sparrow out of the snare of the fowlers” (Ps. 124:7) . For in the present life the soul is always surrounded by the snares of temptation, which, however, have no power to frighten her as often as she is transported out of herself by some holy and irresistible attraction, if yet the mental exaltation and ravishment be so great as to lift her above the common and usual modes of thinking and feeling. So we read in Proverbs, “A net is spread in vain before the eyes of them that have wings” (Prov 1:17), Douay). For what has such a soul to fear from sensuality, since she has lost even the faculty of sensation? No longer conscious of material impressions, though remaining still the principle of life to the body, she is necessarily inaccessible to temptations from the senses. “Who will give me the wings of a dove and I will fly and be at rest?” (Ps. 55:6) Would to God that I could often endure a death of this kind and thus escape the snares of a more terrible death! So should I be insensible to the fatal allurements of luxury; so should I be unconscious of the stings of the flesh, of the suggestions of avarice, of the swellings of anger and impatience, of the torments of anxiety and the miseries of care. “Let my soul die the death of the just” (Num 23:10), so that deception  may no longer have power to ensnare me nor sin to seduce! Happy death which destroys not life, but changes it to better! Happy death which lifts the soul to heaven without laying the body low!

Yet this manner of dying is peculiar to men. Therefore, “Let my soul die the death of the angels” also (if I may use the expression), so that escaping from the memory of all present things, she may strip herself, not alone of the desires, but even of the images of inferior and corporeal objects, and may converse spiritually with them whom she resembles in spirituality! The name contemplation, as it seems to me, belongs either solely or principally to such a mental ecstasy. It is the part of human virtue to live on earth unfettered by earthly desires; but to be able to contemplate truth without the help of material or sensible images is the characteristic of angelic purity. Yet each of these two is the gift of God. Each is a true ecstasy. In each the soul rises above herself, but in the second far higher than in the first. Blessed is the soul which can say in this sense, “Lo, I have gone far off, flying away; and I abode in the wilderness“!  (Ps. 55:7) It is not enough for her that she is transported out of herself, unless she can fly far away and be at rest. Thou hast obtained such a victory over the temptations of the flesh that thou dost no longer gratify its concupiscence nor yield assent to its enticements. This certainly is progress. Thou hast truly gone forth from thyself. But thou hast not yet flown afar, unless, by the purity of thy mind, thou art able to rise above the images of sensible objects, which are constantly rushing in upon thee from every side. Until thou hast attained to this, do not promise thyself any rest. Thou art in error if thou thinkest that the place of repose, the quiet of solitude, the perfection of light, and the dwelling of peace can be found any nearer. But show me the man who has arrived at this point, and I shall unhesitatingly pronounce him to be at rest and qualified to say, “Turn, O my soul, into thy rest; for the Lord hath been bountiful to thee” (Ps. 116:7). Here truly is a home in solitude, and a dwelling in the light, and, according to the Prophet Isaias, “a tabernacle for a shade in the day-time from the heat, and a security and covert from the whirlwind and from the rain” (Is. 4:6). It is of the same the Psalmist sings, “For He hath hidden me in His tabernacle; in the day of evils He hath protected me in the secret place of His tabernacle” (Ps. 27:5).

It appears to me, therefore, that it is into this solitude the Spouse has retired, and there, overpowered by the beauty of the place, has sweetly fallen asleep in the arms of her Beloved. In other words, she has been visited by the slumber of spiritual rapture, and this is the sleep out of which the young maidens are forbidden to awaken her, until she herself pleases. … [JU: the remaining section considers the allegorical meaning of “the roes and the harts.”]

Source: St. Bernard, Sermons on the Song of Songs, Sermon 52.  Translation: A priest of Mount Melleray. St Bernard’s Sermons on the Canticle of Canticles, 3 vols, Dublin, 1920; vol. 2, pp. 91−100.

Latin: Sermones in Cantica canticorum, Migne Patrologia Latina 183 785A−1198A, Paris, 1854.

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Bibliography

A priest of Mount Melleray. St Bernard’s Sermons on the Canticle of Canticles, 3 vols, Dublin, 1920. (Volume 1, Volume 2).

Eales, Samuel J. Saint Bernard: Cantica Canticorum, Eighty-six Sermons. London, 1895.

Leclercq, J.; Talbot, C. H., Rochais, H. M. (eds.). Sermones super Cantica canticorum, in Bernardi opera, volumes 1−2. Ed. Cistercienses, Rome, 1957−58. Latin critical edition.

Walsh, Killian; Edmonds, Irene (trs.). Bernard of Clairvaux: Sermons on the Song of Songs. 4 vols. CF (Cistercian Fathers Series) vols. 4, 7, 31, and 40. Spencer, MA: Cistercian Publications, 1971−80.

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